The One Where
by witwit8
Summary: "You're waving at your stupid friend in the building over when you notice someone waving to you from the adjacent window. And that's how you see her for the first time. The woman who you dub as the "hot window girl", whose skin is pale and whose hair is so blonde and tumbles down her shoulders."" Gail and Holly "Friends" vingette series.


"The One Where"

Gail/ Holly

Rated T

The first part of my "Friends" vignette series. I'll also gladly take requests if you have any ideas for "Friends" situations I can fic into Holly and Gail stories. This one is for ragingscooter who suggested it. Thanks for being rad. Hope you enjoy. Sorry for any mistakes, ya'll. I am old and tired. Holler at me let me know what you think and thanks for reading.

* * *

You're raising your hand and waving at your (rather moronic, but loveable) friend in his new apartment that just happens to be across the street and within window viewing from your best friend Lisa's apartment when a movement in another window in the building catches your attention. Movement that happens to be another person waving. Waving with a pale hand that was attached to an arm that was attached to a- holy shit-

And that's how you see her for the first time. The woman who you dub as the "hot window girl", whose skin is pale and whose hair is so blonde and tumbles down her shoulders. Whose smile is coy as she grins into her mug of coffee. You wave stupidly back for a moment, frozen, before your brain kind of kick starts again and you smile back, face flushing. You mouth the words "hi" before you even realize what you're doing and feel a jolt in your stomach when you get one back. You furrow your brow when you see her begin to mouth another phrase, one you can't seem to make out before you see her own brow furrow with frustration. You shrug your shoulders to convey your confusion. She smirks again, and then makes a gesture that makes your stomach bottom out altogether because you definitely get the implication.

She's smirking at you once more and crooking her finger in a "come here" motion and you're rendered stupid once more when you realize the meaning of her actions. You dumbly gesture toward yourself and see her laugh lightly, nodding her head. You mirror the motion in what you can feel is an exaggerated fashion and start to count the windows in the building. Seventh floor, sixth apartment over. You smile and then you're gone, rushing out the door with barely a word to your friend in the bedroom.

Down the flights of stairs, out the front door, and you're crossing the street, before finding yourself in the lobby of the building you'd been in maybe twice, taking the elevator up after taking a moment to find it. You tap your foot against the floor as the numbers tick, as the bell dings, and you feel yourself hoisted higher and higher. When the doors open, you rush out, quickly counting and finding the apartment number. You take a heavy breath and try to calm your nerves, tucking yourself seemingly casually against the door, and knock.

Your heart starts to pound as you hear footsteps on the floor. The door opens and-

It's Chris. Goddammit.

"Holly! Hey- so what did you think of my robot? I'm getting pretty good at it, yeah?"

You roll your eyes and rush out, "Chris- uh- you're the sixth apartment over."

"I'm- what?"

He has his hands on his hips and his brow wrinkles in confusion.

"Nothing. I- just- I gotta go. See you later, bye."

And then you're sprinting down the hallway, figuring you just got the count off by one or whatever so you're knocking on the next apartment.

It's a bust. And the dude who lived there tried to get you into bed.

The next one over? A kid who did not take it well when you asked if her-

"Mom?"

"No."

"Aunt?"

"No?"

"Shit. Uh- babysitter?"

"-Daddy!"

-was there. That one had left you hopeless (and a little worried about the authorities), your shoulders drooping, and your feet dragging when you realized she could be anywhere in the maze of apartments.

You don't feel proud of yourself when you lean your forehead against the wall with a groan at your misfortune and moan, "hot girl, noooo."

You drag your sorry ass back home all the way downtown and try not to think of that smile and wave.

The next day, it seems, your luck changes. You're once more at Lisa's and although she isn't in the window once more like you'd hoped, Lisa is there to pop over your shoulder and ask you what the hell is wrong with you when you stare at it so forlornly.

You find yourself spilling the story and clench your jaw when she laughs.

"Oh- that one? The hot girl in the window? The one Chris was mooing over in 34B?"

You sputter.

"You- know- what?"

"Yeah- Chris came over last night saying he met this hot girl on his floor and she lived in 34B. I remember because I made the joke that I hoped he wasn't getting that excited over a 34B. Get it?"

"Yes, Lisa. You work on tits. It's a tit joke. You're hysterical. Did Chris- are they?"

Lisa smiles and your stomach drops.

"Tell me my joke is funny and I'll tell you."

"Damn it, Lisa."

"Holly. Tell me-"

"It was fucking hysterical, okay! Are she and Chris, like, going on a date or-"

Lisa smiles again and shakes her head.

"I don't think that was sincere, now, do ya, Hol?"

She chuckles when you growl, finally turning her back to go toward her bedroom, tossing over her shoulder, "She turned him down! And I AM fucking hysterical, for the record."

You find yourself sprinting down the flights of stairs, out the front door, and you're crossing the street, before finding yourself in the lobby of the building you'd been in twice now in two days, and taking the elevator up after finding it with ease. And you're tapping your foot once more and watching the numbers go up and the doors are opening and you're rushing and then, you find it. 34B of the seventh floor. You situate yourself as causally as you can before you knock. You're nervous but it's better this time. It's the anticipation that shakes your knees, makes your heart thump with the sound of the latch, the turn of the handle. And then-

"Chris, goddammit! What the hell?"

He's opening his mouth and getting ready to say something when you hear a decidedly not Chris voice.

"Dude, I've known you for two seconds. Probably shouldn't be opening my door. I-"

And then she's stepping into view and it's her and your jaw kind of goes slack and you're fairly certain your toes are numb because all the blood is trying desperately to provide enough oxygen to your brain and Jesus if she was beautiful from afar, she's fucking breath taking now up close.

She stops to stare at you. She recovers before you do, that small, sly smile fixing itself on her lips.

"You," she's saying with amusement, "I thought you'd dipped out on me. Thought we had a deal but you didn't show."

You're shaking your head and not even really paying attention to the words spilling out of your mouth because holy shit she might be the most beautiful thing you've ever seen, like, ever.

"I- math. And counting. Is- hard. And shameful. Very shameful because I'm a scientist and math is important. In general. But especially… in science."

A moment as she stares at you. You curse your words as they finally catch up to your shorting brain.

But then, there it is- a laugh. Full and lovely and- God.

After her mirth subsides, she fixes you with a sort of affectionate look.

"Well, lucky for you, I happen to have a thing for sexy, nerdy types. I'm Gail."

The smile on your own face hurts with force of it.

"Holly."

Another silence. But this one- this one is purposeful. You watch as she drifts her eyes over your body, biting at her lip. You do your own sweep of her form, trying desperately to be at least sort of respectful during the perusal.

It isn't until Chris clears his throat that you even remember he's there.

It doesn't take much- a shove from you and a distracted, "See ya, Craig," by Gail- to get him to leave you two alone, the door shutting behind him.

And then you're alone, with the hot girl from 34B.

And it's hours later, with her hands hot on your sides and her tongue lashing slowly in your mouth to draw the aching moans out of your throat, that you thank God for Chris' lack of finesse and bumbling flirting that led you to this- this incredible, ridiculously intelligent and snarky and witty and attractive and, okay, yeah- fucking hot woman.

You really would have to thank him later. Actually watch his robot the next time he's in his window.

Her hips roll into yours. She whimpers.

Yeah- thank God for windows and Lisa's apartment and math and- and science?- and Chris' ineptitude. Because there's something in the way she moves ad moans and sighs that tells you- they might have led you home.


End file.
